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04/12/2020
DN1982
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DN1982
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21
Toni's Hairdressing Parlor
It was a long time ago when mummy thought she didn't want to put the scissors to my head anymore and dragged me to Toni's hairdressing salon for the first time. The shop door opened only with difficulty and the doorbell rang, which was known from many shop doors. At one o'clock stood the counter, behind which the master in his typical smock was taking money from a customer. At 9 o'clock the ladies, at 3 o'clock the gentlemen. The scissors snipped, the hairdryer boomed and the air was impregnated with chlorofluorocarbons mixed with a sticky substance called hairspray.
But there was something else in the air. Something far more pithy than the hairspray haze. Something you can't smell in a hairdressing salon these days: aftershave!
Yes, at that time the farmer did not eat what he did not know, and an electric razor was still being chased out of the cow village by the elders among the old people with howling and with the help of torches, stakes, pitchforks and garlic. Yes, they allowed themselves the luxury of carrying a small part of it to Toni every few days, when a few bottles of the good home-made brandy had been made into money again, and to have the stubble scraped off the sun-tanned, wrinkled face leather with the freshly stripped steel. It was a great thing, after the stubble had been removed, to have a gush of the finest scented water patted on the cheeks and neck - saved a short one thanks to the strong alcohol fumes, drove away the smell of the dung heap in the own yard and the smell of the outhouse behind it and also saved a shower, which because of its absence only consisted of a few liters of water in the washing bowl.
Back then, in 1980, I knew instinctively that this was the smell of the 1960s, although I was far from being around in the 60s. Well, the dump was always 20 years behind the moon with everything, so it was a very simple calculation. No more, no less.
The Red for Men from current production hits you with the first breath the Old Schooler Barbershop on the 12th!
Even though the typical barbershop scents were still widely spread in the early 1990s when this fragrance was released, I can't help but say that Giorgio Beverly Hills was behind the moon with this creation at that time for the above mentioned 2 decades - he would have fitted in well in our town, the good boy!
I don't want to describe the fragrance in detail at this point, because everyone who is in their 30s, or even better, has the 4 in the first place, knows this genre of fragrance! Whether a man has a Pitralon or Hattrick or anything else from Aldi or Edeka in his face: there were no differences worth mentioning: citric, cuminy opening, flowery middle, in the finish a leathery, woody Walcholder (berry), which in this case was dried with a little bit of incense, although it is not even on the list.
If it should be a little more pleasant, one also reached into Muehlhen's assortment. And as the penultimate Mohican of his kind, one could also reach for Red for Men, because I would describe him as one of the better barbershop representatives. No more and no less.
As much as one may mourn certain fragrances and scents: this category has long since passed its best times. Much of what is now called shower scent was the barbershop 20 years ago - no more and no less. Then maybe you'd rather dig really deep into memories and state of the art quorum on it. Don't be surprised if the old boxes in the old people's home turn their heads one after the other; the pretty, young geriatric nurse, whom you've had your eye on for a long time, but then you get the hell out.
Ok, in our town it always takes a little longer before certain things have their best times behind them. Did I mention that compared to the national average it takes about 20 years? Oh, yes, further ahead...
Yes, you could have definitely got a taste of such waters in Toni's hairdressing salon shortly before his retirement, even around the turn of the millennium. But it turned out differently! I can no longer say exactly and the older of the old, who knew even more, are no longer with us today. If I still remember it to some extent, our master of hairstyles and beards, or rather his business, perished due to internal family quarrels and the salon connected with it. Even in those days there were people who couldn't get their necks full and liked to nibble on the sweet nectar called lease. What went well, yielded good profit and so someone wanted to nibble even more of the sweet nectar of rent. And even more. And more. But at some point it was disgorged. The shop, which at that time had a bit of cult status thanks to its rather young, likeable and in a certain sense cool operator and his team, was completely exhausted and the master craftsman now had to pursue less hairy craft in some factory. The pizza baker, who later took up residence in the shop, must have aired for quite a long time to get the spirit of the time out of the walls...
But there was something else in the air. Something far more pithy than the hairspray haze. Something you can't smell in a hairdressing salon these days: aftershave!
Yes, at that time the farmer did not eat what he did not know, and an electric razor was still being chased out of the cow village by the elders among the old people with howling and with the help of torches, stakes, pitchforks and garlic. Yes, they allowed themselves the luxury of carrying a small part of it to Toni every few days, when a few bottles of the good home-made brandy had been made into money again, and to have the stubble scraped off the sun-tanned, wrinkled face leather with the freshly stripped steel. It was a great thing, after the stubble had been removed, to have a gush of the finest scented water patted on the cheeks and neck - saved a short one thanks to the strong alcohol fumes, drove away the smell of the dung heap in the own yard and the smell of the outhouse behind it and also saved a shower, which because of its absence only consisted of a few liters of water in the washing bowl.
Back then, in 1980, I knew instinctively that this was the smell of the 1960s, although I was far from being around in the 60s. Well, the dump was always 20 years behind the moon with everything, so it was a very simple calculation. No more, no less.
The Red for Men from current production hits you with the first breath the Old Schooler Barbershop on the 12th!
Even though the typical barbershop scents were still widely spread in the early 1990s when this fragrance was released, I can't help but say that Giorgio Beverly Hills was behind the moon with this creation at that time for the above mentioned 2 decades - he would have fitted in well in our town, the good boy!
I don't want to describe the fragrance in detail at this point, because everyone who is in their 30s, or even better, has the 4 in the first place, knows this genre of fragrance! Whether a man has a Pitralon or Hattrick or anything else from Aldi or Edeka in his face: there were no differences worth mentioning: citric, cuminy opening, flowery middle, in the finish a leathery, woody Walcholder (berry), which in this case was dried with a little bit of incense, although it is not even on the list.
If it should be a little more pleasant, one also reached into Muehlhen's assortment. And as the penultimate Mohican of his kind, one could also reach for Red for Men, because I would describe him as one of the better barbershop representatives. No more and no less.
As much as one may mourn certain fragrances and scents: this category has long since passed its best times. Much of what is now called shower scent was the barbershop 20 years ago - no more and no less. Then maybe you'd rather dig really deep into memories and state of the art quorum on it. Don't be surprised if the old boxes in the old people's home turn their heads one after the other; the pretty, young geriatric nurse, whom you've had your eye on for a long time, but then you get the hell out.
Ok, in our town it always takes a little longer before certain things have their best times behind them. Did I mention that compared to the national average it takes about 20 years? Oh, yes, further ahead...
Yes, you could have definitely got a taste of such waters in Toni's hairdressing salon shortly before his retirement, even around the turn of the millennium. But it turned out differently! I can no longer say exactly and the older of the old, who knew even more, are no longer with us today. If I still remember it to some extent, our master of hairstyles and beards, or rather his business, perished due to internal family quarrels and the salon connected with it. Even in those days there were people who couldn't get their necks full and liked to nibble on the sweet nectar called lease. What went well, yielded good profit and so someone wanted to nibble even more of the sweet nectar of rent. And even more. And more. But at some point it was disgorged. The shop, which at that time had a bit of cult status thanks to its rather young, likeable and in a certain sense cool operator and his team, was completely exhausted and the master craftsman now had to pursue less hairy craft in some factory. The pizza baker, who later took up residence in the shop, must have aired for quite a long time to get the spirit of the time out of the walls...
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